


The Idlest of Hands

by sammo



Category: Cancer Crew
Genre: Deaf Ian, M/M, hearing loss, maxian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammo/pseuds/sammo
Summary: Ian's deaf and Max is his loving boyfriend.





	1. Chapter 1

Max leans on his hand, his eyes drooping sleepily. Why must they watch the Dog Whisperer every morning? And why must Ian wake him up to watch it instead of letting him sleep until he woke up naturally? He groans, checking his phone. 5:45 A.M. He breathes hard out of his nose; it's fucking Saturday. Who is waking up at 5 am on a Saturday?

Ian sits beside him on the couch, his legs crossed as he balances a bowl of cereal in his lap. His hair is askew, and he has a bit of dried drool still at the corner of his mouth. He's wearing a plain white T-shirt that's slightly wrinkled and his normal brown checked boxers. He pushes a spoonful of Froot Loops into his mouth, munching happily as he pushes his black glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. He swallows, tilting his head at the screen.

"Ian, I'm fucking tired and we have company to pick up at the airport later today," he huffs, sitting up straight. His inky curls are a mess, but his blue eyes are bright as ever despite being tired. He doesn't wear a shirt at all, only his pokémon boxers. "I would enjoy going back to bed, even if it's only for a couple hours."

Ian doesn't answer- just swallows his cereal, his eyes transfixed to the television. Max taps his shoulder, and Ian looks over. He adjusts his glasses again, raising his eyebrows. He sets his spoon into the almost empty bowl.

Ian taps his chin with his forefinger, then makes an open palmed gesture with his hand. He clenches his fist, and makes a circular motion against his chest then gestures to the television. _'What did you say? Sorry, I was watching the TV._ '

Max shrugs, "It's fine. I was asking to go back to bed. I have to pick up George in a few hours, and I'd like to be well rested. That fuckers gonna have us bouncing off the walls, I swear," he laughs. Ian watches his mouth, breaks into a big grin.

 _'Is he_? ' he signs, _'does he know about-_ ' his hands falter, and Max leans forward. He puts a hand to Ian's thigh, which causes him to swallow and look up at his boyfriend with worried eyes.

Max shakes his head, his blue eyes meeting the greens. He leans back, clasps his hands together and stretches, cracking his knuckles. ' _He does know. I told him._ '

Ian gives him a sly smile at the way he cracks his knuckles, as if that was truly necessarily. He knows he was just showing off for Ian's sake. _'You're getting better,_ ' Ian signs.

Max waves his hand down, _'thanks_.'

Ian leans over, and kisses Max's cheek before standing up with his bowl in his hands. Max stands as well and Ian waves a hand at him, long fingers wiggling as he does.

"What?" Max chirps, "is this one I don't know? Hold on, do it again, I can-" Ian puts a hand over Max's mouth, chuckles erupting from his lips. His laugh is merely a series of inhales, and Max loves it. Laughing is probably the most exercise Ian's vocal cords receive. Max grins underneath Ian's hand, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away. "I'm serious, what is it you cunt? Just-"

Ian points to their bedroom, still doing his silly laugh. Max's face falls and he says "oh," realizing that Ian was just motioning him to go sleep.

 _'I'll wake you_ ,' Ian signs, nodding.

"You'll _what_ me?" Max shrieks and Ian bursts into giggles again, sliding up close to Max and grasping his soft face in his hands. He uses one hand to pull Max's eye farther open.

"Wake you," Ian mouths. Max breathes out and pushes his lips to Ian's, his hands moving around the skinny boy's waist. Ian's fingers card through Max's curled locks, slightly panting into the younger man's mouth. They part with a small smack.

"Thanks, Ian. We're gonna leave here at 8 to go pick up George, okay?" Max kisses Ian's forehead. Ian frowns, and Max pets his cheek. "He'll like you, I promise. And he won't care about you being deaf, surely not. Who knows? Maybe he'll surprise you and know some ASL!"

Ian gives Max a look, signs _'doubt it._ '

-

George checks his watch, tapping his foot slightly. He reaches up and pulls his pink hat off, ruffling his dark locks then sliding it back onto his head. He checks his phone and huffs a bit at the lack of messages. He unlocks it with his fingerprint and opens up iMessage, beginning to type out a message to Max when he hears that loud voice from across the airport.

"Aaaay, fucka!" Max dashes up to George, wrapping him in a tight hug. A slender man dashes up behind him, panting a bit from the sprint. "Nani ga meinudesu ka?" Max says, hands on his hips with a big grin.

George rolls his eyes laughing. "Oh, I should have never taught you that, anata wa orokana manko."

Ian taps Max's shoulder, causing him to turn to look at him. George looks at the guy now as well, finally noticing him fully. He's quite slender, and _tall_. Taller than George, in fact. Max almost has to look up at him. Ian makes a confused face, pointing at George.

"Oh!" Max says, turning back to George, "try not to speak too much Japanese. Ian can't read your lips if you're speaking a language he doesn't know." Max turns back to Ian. ' _Japanese_ ' he signs, and Ian's eyes flash with sudden understanding.

"Sorry," George smiles a bit awkwardly, and speaks a bit slower, "I didn't...know you...couldn't-"

"Don't do that," Max laughs, "he's not fucking slow, he's deaf. And he knows you're doing that."

Ian, who was looking at Max, looks back to George and cocks an eyebrow. He signs something that's obviously to George, who's eyes widen as he looks between him and Max in confusion. Max bursts out laughing and Ian giggles into his hands.

"What?" George spits, but he's smiling, "what? what did he say?"

"He asked you to stop being 'fucking gay', as he put it," Max cackles, punching George playfully in his chest.

"You little bitch," George smiles wide at Ian, the awkward tension melting away easily.

Ian sticks his right pointer and middle finger out into a peace sign, and smacks it against his left closed fist. He then lifts his right hand off of his fist, making it flat.

' _Fuck off.'_

"Oh dear," Max says, "your language, young man," and kisses his cheek. George usually hates any kind of PDA, but can't help but feel warm watching them.

' _I'm older than you, bitch'_ Ian signs, then goes to pick up George's duffle bag as well as his rolling suitcase.

"Oh, no! No need to do that!" George says, but Ian is bent over grabbing the duffle. George looks to Max, who motions for George to poke him easily.

"He's used to it," Max says. George nods and touches Ian's shoulder easily. He looks up, and signs ' _sorry what?'_

"I got that," George lifts his hat, rubs through his hair again, "really, it's fine."

Ian shrugs, slinging the bag over his shoulder. ' _I'll just get your bag_ ' he signs, _'so you can get your suitcase.'_

George says, "uhhh" and Ian suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. He's gotten so used to Max knowing what he's saying most of the time that having to deal with people who don't know any sign language gets a bit tedious. He pulls out his phone, opens up a new contact template, and hands it to George.

George looks down at the cell, up at Ian, then to Max before he takes it. He inserts his number and his name. Ian gives him a look before taking his phone back and opening up a message. He types quickly, and presses send.

George's phone dings, and the message appears on the lock screen. 'YOU GET SUITCASE. I GET BAG. OK?' it reads in all caps. Max reads it over George's shoulder and glares at Ian.

"Oh, Ian, no reason to be fucking petty," he says. Ian merely cocks an eyebrow and proceeds to begin walking towards the exit of the airport.

Max watches him go and says, "oh he's pissed now," George looks at Max worriedly, afraid that he is the reason for the man's sudden short temperament. Max catches his worried eyes and pats his shoulder. "Don't worry, mate. He's just not used to people not understand him after being with me for so long. You'll pick up on some of it, I'm sure. I'll be there to translate as well- he's just a bit sensitive is all," he pauses, "don't tell him I fucking said that though."

George chuckles, grabbing the handle of his suitcase and beginning to walk after Max.

-

Max and George nudge each other playfully as they grip the Wii remotes tight. Mario Kart plays on the screen; George is Peach and Max is Toad. Ian is in the kitchen, currently making all three of them a hot snack.

"You bitch, you fucking bitch!" Max curses, stomping his bare foot on the carpeted floor, "how are you getting the goddamn red shells EVERYTIME? You're not even in a low place! Fuck!"

George snickers, pressing the b button once more. A few more minutes of silent, concentrated playing passes before George says anything. "So," he says, looking back to see if Ian is near, "you and Ian huh?"

"No need to look, dumbass, it's not like he can hear ya," Max chuckles, jerking his hands to make a tight curve.

"Right," George chuckles, a bit surprised by Max's bluntness, "is it good? The whole thing?"

"Yeah," Max says, "love him to bits. Sounds a bit corny, but i'm genuinely fucking whipped- fucking Yoshi bastard!" Max moves his controller again.

"Does it ever get, like..." George presses buttons easily, "a bit hard? Ya know, with the thing?"

"Nah," he says, "as far as i'm concerned it's just like a fucking harmless flaw. Doesn't change who he is, not truly."

"Huh," George nods, "does he know how to talk?"

"Oh yeah," Max nods, biting his tongue in concentration as he passes Donkey Kong and Luigi, "he just doesn't think his voice sounds good. Not that he'd know really," Max smirks, "but he's smart enough to know he doesn't sound like we do. He knows how to move his mouth, and what pitch to use because of vibrations and shit. He's kind of clever, I'll give him that. I'll always give him that. Fuck! Rosalina, you whore!" he fumbles with the controller angrily.

George passes Mario, going into first place. "Does he talk to you?"

"Eh," Max shrugs, "I understand sign language, so there's not really a need to make him uncomfortable. Like I said, he's not a fan of his voice. But from time to time he'll say something- maybe romantic or whatever."

"How's the sex?" George says suddenly

Max almost drops his controller, and turns to give George a complexed look. George just smirks, when suddenly Ian appears in the living room with a plate of hot cheese fries.

He sees the look on max's face and tilts his head in questioningly at the two of them.

"Nothing, Ian," George chuckles, "he's just mad that he just lost."

Ian looks at the TV screen to see that Peach has come in first place. He looks back to Max, smiling big and shoving his shoulder. He mouths "loser" and slides beside him on the couch, picking up the controller for himself.

-

George adjusts the camera, then steps away, hands up cautiously to make sure it doesn't fall. He looks into the lens, then steps back. "Should be good," he says, "It's already recording, so we can get started. Do I have to eat the fucking centipede?" he yells, turning quickly.

They're filming a video today, Max and George. They're eating some packets of bugs for a video today- if they puke, it's a definite upload. Ian's standing by the camera, arms crossed and also looking cross. He knows he's going to have to use the water hose on the puke. Ian gives a little puff of air and walks back through the sliding doors into the house.

"He alright?" George asks.

"Yeah," Max grins, "he hates vomit. Ironic, huh? Considering."

George frowns. "What if he gets hurt inside?"

Max chuckles, turning to George in his plastic chair. "You worried about my boyfriend?"

George gives him an annoyed look. "I just mean that he's all alone in there. What if- like- he doesn't hear an alarm or something."

Max hums. "It's nice that you care, but I promise you he's completely capable and independent. But, if he truly needs me he'll come out here and get me. Usually he'll just poke me like I poke him or something. He's not much for yelling at me-"

"MAX!"

Ian's voice rings from the glass door and Max jumps, flinging the chair back as he stands quickly. Ian's palm is open and there's a long centipede curled up in the middle of it. His other hand is on his hip.

That's the first time George has ever heard the boy's voice besides his laugh. He didn't use a very normal inflection, and had stuttered a bit over the "M" noise, holding it out a bit longer than normal. Yet, besides that he couldn't really tell his voice was any different from his or Max's.

Max briskly walks over to Ian with a glass jar in his hand. He holds it out to Ian, who drops the hundred legged bug into the bottom. "Don't scare me like that, Ian! You fucking dumbass!" he tops the jar, and tosses it to George. "Got me thinking you're hurt, you cunt," he holds his face with his hand, his thumb stroking Ian's cheekbone. Ian flushes bright pink. George blushes watching them.


	2. Chapter 2

The shooting of the video went well. Max vomited of course, complaining about feeling the centipede going down his throat. George had fell onto the ground laughing, hands slapping his thighs and rolling around.

Ian now stands in the middle of the yard, hosing down the vomit with the water hose with a terrible look of disdain. He gets tired of cleaning up after Max's messes, despite how much he loves him. He sprays down the last of the bile and begins to coil the hose around his arm. He places it up on the rack that hangs on the side of the house, careful to step back onto the concrete instead of the newly created mud. He slides open the glass door, slipping off his tennis shoes as he enters the house.

Max and George sit at the kitchen table, crowding around Max's laptop. Ian eyes the video camera that sits on the table as well, the compartment where the SD card is held closed completely. They're not editing then. Max always leaves it open. Ian coughs to make himself noticed. How did they not hear him come in? He's supposed to be the deaf one.

Max and George look up. George shuts the laptop quickly, giving Ian a toothy smile. Max stands up, strides over to Ian and hugs him around his tiny waist. Ian's hands clutch the front of Max's shirt. He smiles, tilts his head at the laptop questioningly.

"Oh, that?" Max shrugs, "nothing important. Just looking for gifts."

"Gifts?" Ian mouths. He lets his hands fall from Max's chest and signs 'my birthday is another month away.'

Max shrugs again, sneaking a glance to George then leaning in to kiss Ian on his cheek. George picks up his laptop, and takes long strides upstairs to his guest bedroom. Max gives Ian another smile, smacks his ass and heads off to the kitchen. Ian's mouth drops open a bit. He stares at where the laptop was sitting before, then looks at Max as he piddles around in the kitchen. Since when does Max keep secrets from him?

-

The most the guys decide to film the rest of the week that George is in Australia is a vlog. They all go to the shops together the next day, having a nice lunch outside in the warm sun. Ian got to pet 3 different dogs that day, so he considered it's great one. He doesn't think much about the gift Max was talking about ordering- or whatever he was talking about with George. He still didn't know what they were truly talking about. He tried not to think about it, but he's not dumb enough for that to work. He does think about it.

He doesn't bring it up to Max at all. He doesn't bring up the little prickle of jealousy he feels whenever Max and George whisper an inside joke to each other, or listen to the music that George has been working on. He loves Max, and he knows that Max loves him. And yet, every knowing glance him and George share...and every brush of their shoulders...it drives Ian up the wall. He tries to shake it off, because it isn't like him. He has always been confident in Max's feelings for him, and prides himself on having such a loving and fun relationship despite his disability.

Though, he's never thought about if Max ever wished he had a boyfriend who could listen to his rambling. Or sing him songs. Or be able to hear the raunchy words that Max whispers in his ear while he's-

Ian pushes a hand through his hair as he sits up in bed. He reaches to his right, feeling for Max. He's not surprised that he isn't there. The bed isn't even warm anymore. He slides his legs over the side of the bed, swallowing thickly. The anxiety that resides deep in his stomach isn't going away any time soon. He takes a few deep breaths, and stands. He shuffles into the connected bathroom, taking a leak before moving to brush his teeth. His green toothbrush sits right by Max's.

He remembers when they first moved in together, and when Max had complained that if they put their toothbrushes too close together that their germs would mingle.

' _You think our germs don't mingle when we do this_?' Ian signed as Max pressed Ian back against the sink. Max's mouth was attached to the slender boy's throat, and he had merely grunted. His hands wrapped around Ian's thighs, and he lifted him up onto the sink.

Ian shudders as he spits toothpaste into the sink. He rinses his mouth, and wipes his mouth on the towel by the sink. He grabs a pair of sweatpants from his dresser and slides them on before trotting downstairs. He finds George and Max deep in conversation on the couch. George's hand rests on Max's leg as he nods along to whatever Max is saying. He looks somewhat sympathetic.

Ian doesn't hate George. He got annoyed when he first met him and he babied and patronized him because he's deaf. But he knew he didn't mean to do it, and that he had obviously met very few hearing disabled people in his life. He got over it. He can't expect everyone to be as perfectly understanding as Max. He soon found George to be funny, hilarious even. He even occasionally had to cover his mouth when a loud guffaw tumbled from his lips. George would blush when this would happen, and Max would cackle.

Yet, George and Max were closer than George and Ian. Ian knew this. Ian knew that George was going to treat him well no matter what he really thought about him, because Max is his best friend. The thought made Ian slightly sick. Him and George were friends, right? An angry voice in the back of his head said 'if he was your friend, he wouldn't be trying to steal your boyfriend right now.'

But he isn't trying to do that. He isn't.

Ian walks further into the living room, finally coming around the corner and into the open. George moves away from Max, trying to look like they weren't talking about something.

"Hey, Ian!" Max looks up at him, grinning. His hand slips around Ian's wrist, and Ian easily moves to sit on Max's lap. Ian's arms easily move around Max's neck as he leans his head against Max's soft curls. Max's cheeks easily turn pink and George smiles at them. Ian swallows, and doesn't look at him.

-

The next morning they take George to the the airport. Ian sits annoyed in the back (though he'd never express this to Max) as he and George sit in the front and chat. He doesn't bother to lean up to try and read their lips. He doesn't care what they're talking about. He'll be gone soon, and he and Max can return to normal and his stupid jealousy can fade away.

They pull into a parking spot, and Max goes around to pull the luggage out of the back of the car. Ian climbs out and helps also, but he's not quite happy about it. He only carries George's backpack. They take George to his gate, setting his luggage down by one of the chairs.

"You want us to stay and wait until your plane boards?" Max asks.

Ian perks, his pointer and middle finger on his left hand closing down to meet the top of his thumb. ' _No_.'

Max looks at him with a confused expression, as does George but that's only because he doesn't understand what he said. Max swallows, not wanting to speak out loud in fear of hurting George's feelings.

' _Why not_?' Max signs, ' _it's polite. He's my friend.'_

Ian face flushes, and he huffs. His signing becomes rapid when he's angry, much like a person who talks fast when they're upset. _'I don't give a fuck. I'm your boyfriend, and I don't want to stay._ '

Max looks at him wide-eyed, and George says, "what? Did he make a sex joke?"

Max turns to him and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "Y-yeah, um. He said he's not feeling well so we're just gonna-"

"Not what I said!" Ian shouts, slurred but obviously annoyed. Max looks at him wide eyed, his mouth dropping open then snapping closed with anger. George rebounds, eyebrows pulled up in confusion.

"Ian, what's up with you?" Max spouts, but Ian is already stomping towards the exit with his arms crossed. Max looks back to George, who shrugs.

"You better go then," George says, frowning, "I hope I didn't- I mean, I thought he liked me! I guess, I don't know. What the fuck?"

Max shakes his head, looking to where Ian had walked, then back to George. "Don't worry about it, dude. I'll Skype you and tell you what's up later."

George nods, just as his plane is announced to board.

-

Max jerks open the car door, glaring at Ian who sits in the passenger seat. His arms are crossed and he's glaring at the windshield. His hand moves up to push his glasses up on his nose.

"Ian!" Max shouts, though it's pointless. Ian doesn't look at him. Max climbs into the car, shutting his door. He taps Ian's shoulder, and Ian turns toward the window. "Oh fine, Ian, just look away! 'Cause you can't hear me huh? Fucking fine!" he starts the car, and pulls out of the parking space. They drive home in silence.

-

Ian walks in and automatically curls up on the couch. Max huffs, squatting down by couch and putting a hand through Ian's hair. "Ian," he says against the back of his neck. He slides a hand around his middle, pressing his chest against him, "Iaaaaaaan..."

Ian turns over, and him and Max are face to face. Max pokes his bottom lip out in a pout and Ian huffs. He leans forward, pressing his lips to Max's softly. Max opens up his mouth to Ian, sighing into his mouth. "I'm sorry..." Ian whispers against his mouth. Max leans back, bites his lip.

"What's up with you? I thought you liked George...he likes you, I know that."

Ian sits up, pushing up his glasses. ' _He also likes you.'_

"What?" Max's face curls up with laughter, "what's that mean, love?"

Ian breathes out, placing his palms over his face. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, then looks at Max with tears eyes. Max immediately placed his hands on Ian's thighs, gripping them. "What's wrong? Ian?"

' _I think_ -' Ian's hands stall, ' _I thought you two were flirting. He can talk to you good. And he can listen to you. I can't_ ,' Ian's hands fall into his lap and his tears well up again. He's so embarrassed.

"Oh, Ian..." Max's hands move to Ian's hips, "why? Why would you think that? You know I love you."

' _What was on the laptop? What were you guys always talking about in secret_?' Ian signs quickly and furiously, sniffling as he does.

"Oh," Max says quietly, "that- we were just- oh Ian..."

' _Tell me_ ,' Ian signs bluntly, ' _tell me now_.'

Max drops from a squat down to his knees. He scrubs his hands over his face and says quickly: "we were trying to see if there was a surgery for your ears. George was going to take all of the money that he'd make from selling his album and put it into an account for the surgery if you wanted to have it. It was just a thought, Ian- and the doctor has told us over and over it's just your ears. It's expensive, but it's operable and you could-"

Ian puts his hand over Max's mouth, stopping him from talking. He shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath. ' _So you do wish I wasn't deaf_ ,' Ian signs, his eyes still closed, ' _you want me to have this surgery_?'

He opens his eyes. Max looks at him, at a loss for words. "I- Ian...no, that's not- I thought you'd want-"

Ian stands, shaking his head. "If it's such a burden for you, Max," Max swallows as Ian speaks. It's always a surprise to him. "Then, do not be with me."

He turns and calmly rounds the corner to walk up the stairs. Max sits open mouthed on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Max finally stands, quickly dashing up the stairs and into his and Ian’s room. Ian is sitting cross legged on the bed, an obvious pout on his lips. His arms are crossed, and he occasionally uses his knuckle to push his glasses up on his nose. He mainly does it out of habit, Max has noticed.

 “Ian,” Max says, moving in front of the skinny boy. He places his hands on his knees, makes sure he is right in front of Ian so he can read his lips. “Ian, you are not a burden,” Max says this gruffly, a bit annoyed that Ian would think that.

 ' _You make it seem so!’_ Ian signs quickly, with jerky movements to show his attitude, ‘ _You want me to be normal, and cool like George! I’m not George. If you like his hearing ability go be with him! I was perfectly fine being alone for twenty four years, and while these two years I’ve spent with you have been amazing, I can always go back to how it was! I was competent then, and I still am.’_ His hands clench up into fists when he’s done spouting off. Max stares a bit, obviously processing every word and gesture he just saw. Then, he sighs, and turns around to sit on the bed.

 He rubs his forehead, then ruffles his curls in annoyance. He turns to Ian, hands going back to his knobby knees. “Ian, I know. I know how competent you are. I know you can take care of yourself. But what if something happens? I’ve been your ears for over four years now, two years before we even started dating. George said something- and don’t give me that look- that got me thinking. What if you were home alone, eh? And the smoke alarm did go off? Or- hell, one of those fuckin’ carbon monoxide alarms ya got? Ya can’t use your precious eyes to see invisible gas, Ian!”

 Ian sits for a moment, eyeing Max’s face. He’s visibly calmer now, less angry. Max is worried. That’s all. ‘ _I don’t like to be babied,’_ Ian signs briskly.

 “I know this,” Max responds just as quick.

 ‘ _But,’_ Ian signs, _‘It is nice of you to think about me. You cannot see carbon monoxide either, you know. You also can’t see the germs that give you a fucking cold,’_ at this, he grabs Max’s nose and honks it. Max cackles his loud laugh, grabbing Ian’s wrist with both hands. Max pauses, his hands sliding down to hold Ian’s single one.

 “Ian, I-” he stammers, “I see your point. But...but, it’s easily fixed! We could easily get enough money and-”

 “No,” Ian says, speaking finally. His tone is almost stern. “I am who I am.”

 There’s an unsettling silence.

“Don’t you want to hear my voice?” Max asks, barely above a whisper. It’s not that it matters.

 Ian’s face drops, and tears quickly form in his eyes. They cause his glasses to fog up and he jerks his hand away from Max, angry.

 “You guilt me with this?” Ian’s voice is wavery, and off kilter due to him not concentrating on the shape of his mouth.

 “Ian- no- that’s not what I was trying- I was just asking!” Ian is quickly standing up as Max speaks, not looking at him. He drops to his knees and pulls a suitcase out from under the bed. Fresh tears are trickling down his cheeks, and he sniffles helplessly. “Ian, what are you doing?” Max jumps up, frantic.

 Ian isn’t looking at him, just reaching into his closet and shoving clothes into the suitcase on the floor. Max is talking, pleading, begging, but Ian isn’t looking at him. He doesn’t want to know what he’s saying. He’s said enough. It’s all people do, Ian thinks, is talk. A bit too much, if you ask him.

 He squats, shoves his laptop onto the pile of clothes and zips it quick. He finally looks to Max to see him standing by the door, red-faced. He’s angry.

 “Now that I’ve got your _fucking attention, cunt!”_ he hollers, “where are you going, huh? You _leaving?_ Ian, I asked you a simple fucking question, don’t get so defensive-”

 “Hotel,” Ian says, finally able to calm down and concentrate on his breath and mouth, “I am going to check-in, and book a p-plane tick-tick- _fuck!”_ he curses. He hates that he can’t remember how to say some words properly.

 “ _What!?”_ Max is bellowing at this point, “Ian- you- are you leaving me?”

 “No,” Ian says, pushing by Max and out of the bedroom, “need to see family. Take a b...a break. Not leaving you. I love you.”

 Max runs after Ian down the steps, squeezing by him frantically and grabbing his shoulders. “Ian, I love you, too. Don’t leave me alone. Please. We can work this out, I won’t bring up the surgery again. America is a long flight from here, not an easy one to make back. I need you here with me, Ian, _please.”_

 Ian sniffles again, sits his suitcase down on the bottom step. His hands hold Max’s warm face, and he pushes his lips against the other boy’s. Max grunts in surprise, but wraps his arms around the skinny boy’s waist with vigor. Their lips move together easily, yet when Max licks over Ian’s bottom lip to deepen it, Ian pulls back.

 “Max, I need this time with my family,” Ian says, “alone. I am sorry. Understand that...that I need this, Max.”

 “Then let me come with you!” Max offers, “let me meet your parents, let me just- be with you. It can be a holiday. We can pack properly, and go together. I’ll pay for it all Ian, I’ll make this up to you.”

Ian breathes out. He’s not happy with Max, still. Certainly not. He just doesn’t understand. He , would love to hear Max’s voice. He thinks about it all the time. He wants to tell Max the truth, that the doctor’s first diagnoses about his deafness just being an inner ear problem was wrong. It’s not just his ears, it’s his brain. That’s what the doctor he and his mother went to together last told them. He knows if he has the ear surgery, it only has a 15% chance of working. He knows this, he knows all of this. Yet, all he can sign is: _‘Fine, only if you pay.’_ He doesn’t know why he can’t tell Max. Maybe it’s because it’ll let his hopes down. Maybe, it’s because it makes him seem weak- like he truly is. He doesn’t know.

Max whoops loudly, grabs Ian’s face and peppers it with kisses. Ian feels like vomiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, and also a bit less...happy, HA! But, I wanted to get something out to make sure you guys know that I'm still updating :) I'm just garbage at it...I'm sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

They book their tickets together, and actually manage to get right beside each other. It's a long flight, almost fifteen hours. Max spends most of it sleeping on Ian's arm, while Ian stares out the window until eventually drifting off. Ian's dreams are filled with anxiety, and fear. But they easily shift into dreams of him and Max laying in a huge bed with white sheets. Dream Max is curled into Dream Ian, naked and happy. The sun is starting to shine through the curtains. They're happy.

"Flight 117, we are now landing."

Ian jerks awake. His glasses had been carefully taken off by Max obviously and sat in his lap. He puts them on and blinks at Max, who turns and smiles at him. "Was just about to wake ya," he leans forward and places a gentle kiss to Ian's cheek. Ian flushes, puffs out his cheeks, visibly annoyed by the PDA.

"Oh, hop off it," Max teases him, then cocks his brow, "or actually, in your case, hop on it."

Ian gapes, and Max cackles loudly. He stands up and grabs both of their checked bags. They easily begin to file out as well.

Once out of the terminal, Max wraps an arm around Ian's waist. "Gonna get us an Uber," he says, but Ian's not looking He's staring around at California. He hasn't been home in a while- and they haven't ever met Max. Ian's texted his parents, telling them all about Max, but they've never formally introduced themselves.

Ian feels a tap on his shoulder, and as he turns his head Max catches him in a soft kiss. Ian squeaks into it, pulls away and makes an "ah" sound. "Uber's here," Max grins cheekily. Ian narrows his eyes at him.

They climb into the Uber, and Max gives the driver directions to Ian's parent's place. It isn't a long drive, but Ian is a bit jet lagged and nods off in the backseat.

He's awoken from his nap by Max pushing a hand through his hair. His eyes slip open and Max's lips read: "wake up, sleepy boy."

Ian sees his parents standing at the door, and smiles so big his cheeks hurt. He runs to them, hugging them both tightly with each arm. Max pays the Uber driver, telling him goodbye as he drives off. He then smiles adoringly Ian as he signs to his parents.

"Oh, Ian! Go help Max with your stuff!" Ian's mom laughs, looking around Ian to glance at Max. Max grabs the handles of the suitcases and gives her a lopsided smile.

-

Settling into Ian's parents home is easy. It's not a huge house, but it's simple and comfortable. Max stands in the middle of Ian's old bedroom, staring around. Everything is still in place- it's like Ian never moved away to a completely different country on the other side of the world. An Iron Man poster hangs above the Queen bed that sits in the middle of the room. The bed is draped in a normal blue comforter. Ian's old computer desk still sits by the window, though it's obviously been cleaned off. His medium sized tv is still mounted on the wall, though it seems it's been unplugged from the satellite box.

"It's cute," Max says. Ian is sitting on his own bed cross legged, and sees Max speak out the corner of his eye. He turns to him, his hand open. He drags his finger across his palm.

' _What_?' Ian signs.

"It's cute," Max repeats, breaking into a grin, "It's so you, especially this." Max points a finger at the Iron Man poster, and Ian looks down at his hands bashfully.

' _I used to want to fuck Tony Stark so bad,_ ' he signs, breaking into wheezy giggles. Max's mouth drops open in faux offense, crawls onto the bed and tackles Ian.

"You're disgusting," Max pins Ian, gripping his wrists tight. Ian doesn't squirm, just blushes and laughs.

"Shuddup," Ian speaks. Max's heart jumps at his voice.

"No, you shut up," Max says, but there's no real malice in it. He's just staring down at Ian, pupils beginning to expand. Ian turns his head, shutting his eyes. His face is flushed completely.

"Stop l-looking at me like that, Max," Ian's voice is slightly breathy. He opens his eyes and looks to the boy above him to see his reply.

"Why?" Max's voice is breathy now, too. He stares Ian down.

"Bee-cause," Ian swallows, but doesn't continue.

Max loosens his grip on Ian's wrists so he can lean down and capture his soft pink mouth in a kiss. It's a sweet kiss, and Ian leans up into it easily. Max turns his head sideways so he won't collide with Ian's glasses. Ian slightly whimpers into the kiss. Max wonders if he knows that he does that.

Ian licks over Max's bottom lip, and Max smirks. Dirty boy, he thinks. Ian’s tongue is hot and wet as it slips into Max’s mouth. Max licks back into Ian’s mouth almost furiously. His hands drop from Ian’s wrists and move to cradle his face. As he kisses him, his thumbs trace over his cheekbones. Ian pulls back, panting. His pupils are blown now, and his mouth is a shiny red. Max licks his own lips, trying to control his breathing.

“Max,” Ian whispers under his breath. It’s almost a moan. Max leans up to unbutton his jeans when suddenly-

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

“Ah, fuck me!” Max falls backwards off the end of the bed. Ian sits up, covering his mouth in a gasp. The door slowly creeps open, and Ian’s mother’s head pops into view.

Her eyes scan the scene and she puts a hand to her mouth. She chuckles slightly, her brown curls that match Ian’s bouncing. “Oh gosh,” she snickers, “I’m so sorry, boys. I was just coming to see if you wanted potato wedges or French fries for dinner. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she looks at Max as he stands up off of the floor. “And language, Max Stanley,” she points her finger at him, obviously kidding, then shuts the door.

Max crawls back up onto the end of the bed. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs, “I wonder if she heard you-“

 _‘Heard me_?’ Ian signs, ‘ _did I make a noise?_ ’

Max tilts his head at Ian. So he doesn’t know that he’s a moaner. “Uh,” Max leans up, kisses Ian’s cheek, “forget I said anything.”

-

Dinner tastes amazing. They have a simple meal of burgers and fries (Ian got potato wedges instead, he loves those), and talked about Australia. Ian signs quickly to his parents, much quicker than he does with Max. His hands move in languid motions, and Max can’t always keep up. His parents, though, never miss a beat.

After they had talked and shared stories for around an hour, Ian signed that he was going to take a shower before bed. He signed ‘ _join me_?’ to Max, causing his mother to scold him for five minutes on keeping their love life to themselves, just as she and his father did. Ian merely laughed at her, shooting knowing glances to Max.

As Ian trotted upstairs to shower, Max began to help Ian’s mother clean up the dishes and access food. Ian’s father went into the living room to watch SportsCenter.

“So,” Ian’s mother says to Max as she scrubs a dish, “you love him?”

Max pauses drying a plate. An embarrassed blush creeps up his chest. “Oh yes, Miss-“

“Janine,” she corrects, “please.”

Max nods. “Yes, Janine, really. I have for a long time.”

Janine smiles, rinses another dish and hands it to Max. “His…disability. It doesn’t ever hinder things or-“

“Oh, no, no-“ Max assures her, “I learned ASL just for him.”

“I noticed,” she smiles.  
“I do have a- uh- a proposition though,” Max grips the plate in his hands tight with nervousness.

“For me, or for Ian?” Janine places the cup she’s washing back into the sink and leans on the counter to listen. Max shrugs.

“I- uh- I suppose for Ian. You know my friend George, the one Ian told you about?” Janine nods, “he's really good at music, and he has a lot of fans you could say. He’s putting an album up on iTunes once it’s finished and- and he was going to use the money to…to do something for Ian.”

Janine stares, licks her teeth, and wipes her wet hands on the towel that hangs on a hook on the wall. She turns around, places her hands on the counter top. She doesn’t look at Max. “For surgery?” She asks. Her voice is a bit wavery, and Max almost panics. What did he say? Is she touched, or is she upset? He puts the plate he’s clutching into the drying rack.

“Yes, Ma'am- er- Janine,” he stammers, “but he won’t even think about it! He says he’s fine the way he is- and he is! But, if it can be fixed why not fix it, you know what I-“

Janine sniffles. She’s began crying. “So he hasn't told you, I’m assuming?”

Max stares. “Told me what?”

Ian’s mom turns to Max, her eyes a bit red from tearing up. Max swallows a bit guiltily. “What you want to do is amazingly sweet, Max. But we've tried as well.”

“Really?” Max is genuinely shocked. He thought Ian hadn’t had surgery due to money issues, but if his own parents have tried then-

“Ian’s hearing can’t be fixed. It’s his brain, Max, not just his ears. Something doesn’t work right in his brain, or something,” she chokes out, a tear running down her face, “I don’t quite remember, I was very upset at the doctor’s office. I’m sorry he didn’t tell you.”

Max shakes his head, pushing his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Why?” He sighs, “why would he not tell me?”

Janine wipes her tears with her fingers, swallows thickly. “You think that boy would ever want to seem weak in front of you?”

Max looks at her in shock. Oh.

-

Max walks upstairs slowly, his mind whirring. He had all of this planned, he just needed Ian to agree. He thought being here- with Ian’s parents- would convince him. Yet...it turns out he can’t help Ian. He can’t do what he truly needs to to keep him safe. He feels sick.

He stands at Ian’s bedroom door, pushes it open slowly. Ian lays back against the pillow, a PS4 controller in his hand. He sees Max, pauses the game.

 _‘I got the TV hooked back up_ ,’ he grins as he signs, ‘ _we can play some Black Ops Zombies if you want. I know it’s your favorite_.’

Max pushes the door shut, resting his back against it. He breathes heavy. “I don’t feel like playing.”

Ian cocks his head, his eyes big with confusion. ‘ _Something wrong? You seem sad, Sunshine._ ’

Max blushes. Sunshine is Ian’s sign name for him. Yet, instead of his splayed hand moving above his head like the normal sign, his hand splays out towards Max and also ends with him closing his fist. Ian explained it as keeping some of Max’s light for himself.

Max stands there a moment, looking Ian over. He doesn’t seem sad. Though, Max figures, those who are don’t ever really seem to be.

“Why didn't you tell me it was your brain and not your ears?”

Ian’s mouth drops open slightly, his eyes moving to stare past Max as he contemplates what he just read from his lips. He instantly tears up.

 _‘I don't know what to say_ ,’ Ian signs, shutting his eyes. ‘ _I didn't want you to think I was truly_ …’

He opens his eyes. They’re red, and Max instantly realizes that he looks so much like his mother.

“You're not weak, Ian. I have never thought that. I still don't.”

“Y-You wanted me to get surgery-“

“No,” Max says sternly, moving to sit with Ian on the bed, “no, I wanted to keep you safe. It had nothing to do with changing you. I love you, Ian. You need to get that through your silly thick skull”

Ian blinks away tears. He smiles. “Max I…I n-need you.”

Max swallows, tilting his head at Ian. “You don't. But I'm glad you want me.”

With that, Ian wraps his arms tightly around Max’s neck.

“Loveyouloveyouloveyou,” he murmurs into the boy’s neck. Max pulls him tight to him.

-

Ian curls into Max in his childhood bed. They're watching Iron Man, of course. It's the one DVD that was still stashed in Ian’s desk drawer.

Max bites his lip, gently touches the top of Ian’s head. He looks up. His glasses are off and Max can see his big bright eyes. “Ian,” he says, “would you get surgery if it would work?”

Ian wrinkles his nose in thought, then nods. “Yes,” he says plainly.

Max nods, curls his arm tighter around the scrawny boy. Ian stares up at him. “I’d love to hear your voice, Max,” he says. Max breathes out.

“It's annoying. My accent is loud and obnoxious.”

“I wouldn't care,” Ian rests his head against Max’s chest, obviously drifting off. His eyes shut and Max still stares down at him.

He smiles softly. “I wouldn't either.”


End file.
